Protector
by Juliet's Shadow
Summary: "Kind old ladies assure us that cats are often the best judge of character. A cat will always go to a good man, they say." One-Shot.


_"Kind old ladies assure us that cats are often the best judge of character. A cat will always go to a good man, they say."_

* * *

When I was born I had a mother who loved me and a father who wasn't around. I had four sisters and a runty brother. Mother kept my siblings and I on a soft quilt, washed often because of how often we made a mess. Apparently we were our mothers fifth litter, so she was practiced in raising kittens. She taught us about wizards and witches and how we can serve them to the best of our abilities. My sisters would practice being perfect house cats, curling up on beds and purring while being stroked, promising to never harm their masters and mistresses and those closest to them. I promised to protect my master. My littermates thought I was crazy. How could we offer protection to our masters? We are just half kneazle half cat mutts.

My brother thought the same way I did, though he was small. He vowed to protect his family, but he got sick. Really sick. I did my best, helped him wash up, slept beside him, let him have my share of food but he kept getting worse. "You have to perk up, brother!" I would tell him. He was always so somber and serious. He wouldn't be happy about anything, but he was still my best friend.

"Sorry, brother. I can't," he would tell me. I would wash his ears for him. That's how he died. I was washing his ears for him. The next day, my sisters and I were taken away from our mother.

My sisters, playful, cute and perfect as perfect could be, besides the fact they were completely daft, were adopted within a week. I sat there, watching the days go by.

It was hard, normally. I mean, here I was, nestled in a small silver cage, passerby's taking a single look at me and deciding it wasn't worth buying me. I've heard people say "who would ever buy that ugly thing" or "what kind of monster is that?". It doesn't help ones self esteem. So I'm not exactly pretty, I'll admit that. It doesn't help that I'm not an owl either. That's what kids want. Owls. Those lucky birds never stay here longer than a week. I've lost count of how many days I've been here. Is that terrible? Doesn't matter. I'm never leaving. The sound of the bell above the door goes off, but I simply ignore it. It's bound to be some first year boy looking for some Eagle Owl he can show to his friends. I hear footsteps come towards me. I open one of my large yellow eyes and see a girl, intelligent looking, looking at me through my cage. "Well, aren't you gorgeous!"

Gorgeous? That's new. I look the girl over. She has bushy brown hair, kind and intelligent eyes, a bag slung over her shoulder that is filled with all sorts of books. Maybe she is worthy of me. She is he first person to show interest in me in a long time. I go over to the edge of my cage and purr, giving the best "Adopt Me" face I can give. The girl smiles and calls one of the two sales ladies, the kinder, older one who scratches behind my ears every time she places some food into my cage. Lucille or Lydia or something like that. She's an older lady with hair pulled into a once tight gray bun, but with the stress of the day, several silvery strands have fallen out. The sales woman makes her way over here. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to purchase this cat," says the girl. She lifts her bag further onto her shoulder, as if she is struggling with the weight of the bag, but by the way the bag is starting to burst at the seams, it is apparent she carries books around like this often.

The woman smiles. "Great! He's really a sweetheart, but he's been here for ages. No one seems to want him." Sweetheart? I wouldn't go that far in describing me. Still, as long as it gets me out of here with an adequate owner, what do I care?

The girl looks surprised. "That's terrible! Why wouldn't anyone want him? Well, he has a home now." She passes over what looks like eight galleons, give or take, and she opens my cage, where the girl picks me up carefully.

"This cat is half kneazle, just so you know. That's why he is so big." The sales woman scratches me behind my ears for a final time and I let a purr escape me.

"Half kneazle? That's incredible. Well," she pauses for a moment, "well Crookshanks, looks like you and I will be fantastic friends. Just wait until you meet Harry and Ron. If I need to deliver a letter, I can just borrow Hedwig, that's Harry's owl, or use a school owl. Scabbers, that's Ron's rat, is completely useless anyway." I let my purr grow louder as she kisses the top of my head. "My name is Hermione Granger, Crookshanks," she tells me as we leave the store. She strokes the top of my head as she walks out of the store and down the street. It feels nice outside. I can't remember the last time I had fresh air. I look around and see rats running up and down the street. Dull creatures. They aren't even worth a chase. I can't believe my new Mistress' friend possesses one of these creatures. They don't do anything more than thieve and piss others off.

I have a new mission in life. My Mistress needs protecting and my job is to do that. I'll protect her no matter what. It'll be a tribute to my brother. He couldn't do what he promised to do. I'll do it for us both. Hermione Granger, I promise.

**This is my entry for season 2 round 1 for the Quidditch League as Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps! Go Wasps! Buzzzzzz! **

**-Juliet**


End file.
